Playing with Fire

Carina watched Natalia leave, hand feeling unusually cold once the adviser had released it. After gathering herself, Carina turned her head back to the inside of the grand hall, only to notice how empty it was now. It left a hollow ache in her chest and a loneliness came to settle over her shoulders. Hastily, the Queen tore herself away from the room, exiting it as quickly as her body allowed.

Natalia's words were a constant drum in her head, and Carina knew the other woman was right. She needed to take care of herself for Lorcan's sake, but as she walked through the halls back to her room, once more feeling the eyes of every servant, maid and guard on her, the more tired she grew at the prospect of doing the simple, every day things. Sven's words soon occupied her mind, pushing aside Natalia's advice, and piercing her heart. His expression, the one of betrayal and hurt and anger, filled her thoughts and the knowledge that she would no longer have him in her life caused her breath to leave her as though she had been punched in the stomach.

She had been kept alive because of Lauren's confession, but at what cost? Dark and dangerous thoughts soon whispered and cooed to her, murmuring equally cruel and brutal comments. As she battled with them, her expression was of cool neutrality, aloof and emotionless, as she walked the halls. One glance and no one would guess at the turmoil that lingered beneath the surface.

Her feet carried her to Lorcan's nursery, word obviously having reached the nanny as she didn't protest or question the Queen's arrival. Instead, she merely looked up from the book she was reading as Lorcan slumbered on, watching her superior for a moment, before returning to the book.

Carina took the opportunity to sit at the side of Lorcan's crib, taking a seat in the rocking chair nearby. She didn't take him out, not wanting to disrupt his sleep, but instead reached a hand in to slip a finger within his curled fist. It was warm, to a point where she wondered already if he had inherited Sven's capacity for fire as he felt as warm as his father did. But then that period of reminiscing came to a close, Carina slamming a door on that painful thought of the time's Sven had warm her by simply holding her.

She sat there, for near on a few hours, wherein she fed him and helped change his nappy, simply watching him as if trying to make up for the hours she lost during the week. Her thoughts were turmoil, despite the calmness the room presented, as she considered her budding friendship with Natalia and being a mother to Lorcan. She was unable to help but acknowledge her awful track record with those she loved, trusted or considered friends. Emmett died because her failed coup, Lauren was now facing the execution because of a plot she encouraged, Sven had been betrayed by her and now no longer wanted anything to do with her. As she stared down at Lorcan's peaceful, soft features, she wondered how long it would be until she inevitably hurt him, or Natalia.

Spiralling in that dark pit wasn't good, but Carina couldn't stop herself. There was nothing she could grab onto to stop herself from doing so, with no hope that things could be different.

Her eyes began to sting and she closed them to push back the tears that threatened to fall. Reluctantly, she pulled back from Lorcan's crib, eyes moving to the clock that hung on the wall behind the nanny. It was coming up to the time of Lauren's execution, she realised, and with that revelation she wondered if Sven would see Lorcan before he left for the town square.

Not wanting to run the risk of crossing paths, the Queen murmured her farewells and promises of returning to the nanny before leaving, making a hasty retreat to her own room, which still glittered and glimmered with ice.
 
There wasn't any substitute that could compare to the joy Sven felt when he was around his son, those instances ultimately being his favourite times of the day... but watching the execution unfold was a decent enough event that not only held his attention but thoroughly entertained him. He knew there had to be some sort of sadistic streak passed down to him by his parents for him to actively enjoy observing the end of someone's life, but he declined to focus too much on comparing himself to his parents as he settled in his chair beside the platform erected in the town square for Lauren's execution.

It had been taken down at the behest of the King a few weeks ago, the emphasis instead placed on fair trails and incarceration for those who had committed wrongs. With the death penalty issued only for the most severe of the crimes (with the judges in place to decide such a thing), there was no need to keep the gallows constructed in the middle of the town. It might helpfully serve as a deterrent for those thinking of committing a crime, but it was also understandably daunting to have to live amongst - as accustomed as the people of Ignis were to violent retribution and punishment, often watching countless executions a month when Sven's father reigned, but that didn't mean living so close to the place people had hanged was nice.

Yet, Sven decided as he sat quietly at the side, awaiting the execution, that he had no plans on decommissioning the use of the gallows entirely, nor deconstruct it through little usage. As unsettling as it might be, he decided that the positives of having it in place outweighed the negatives - it not only warned his people not to commit wrongdoing, but it emphasised that he was at the helm of Ignis and wasn't to be pushed about or underestimated.

The months he had spent building a fairer society weren't going to go to waste - he still wanted his courts in place and had plans on continuing trade talks with the nearby kingdom. He just thought he could also do with being seen as tougher and intimidating; someone who might be implementing new ways for Ignis but wasn't weak or a pushover for doing so. If he had to emphasise how capable he was through the resurrection of some of Ignis' former authoritarian, violent ways (including but not exclusive to the frequency of public executions) then he would.

Especially when a part of him enjoyed it. It was a dangerous line to walk when there was ample room to fall back into the old habits of the past that he had worked hard to overcome... but with nobody he fully trusted the word of at his side to support him, to tell him differently, Lauren's hanging was, perhaps, the start of Sven's fall into the person he had once been.

A person he might have been disgusted with himself with, but at least who he was then had been someone who didn't cry and breakdown in bed; someone who knew how to build support and manipulate his way to the top of his game. When he felt as low as he did, such attributes no longer seemed... unappealing.

It was possibly why he greenlit the suggestion of a celebration from one of the superior guards. Ordinarily, he would have turned down such a request when he preferred to be in the company of his wife and son... but when his marriage was in all but name now, why couldn't he celebrate when he had reasons to let loose and have fun? Not only could he finally celebrate the birth of his son, but those who tried to kill him were now both dead, one body reduced to ash and the other resting in an unmarked grave in an unspecified location. The latter alone was a reason to justify a get together; one that would differ vastly from the debauchery his parents engaged in. There would be alcohol and rowdiness; inevitably, some of the soldiers would find their time taken up by a beautiful woman hanging on their arm, but the extent of debauchery from his parents' day was something Sven was keen on avoiding - if only for himself.

Holding a party in the castle had been an idea he had been contemplating for a while; a masked ball whereby he could invite other royals and esteemed aristocrats from other kingdoms in the hope of building relationships not just through letters and trade negotiations, but in-person socialisation. The celebration that occurred that night was nothing of the sort - it wasn't formal, regal or aristocratic. Instead, it was a letting-loose of tension and stress; a wild affair to simultaneously honour the birth of the heir of Ignis and revel in the delight of taking down two threats to the throne.

Formalities weren't relevant, and were impossible to uphold when the alcohol flowed and music on drunkenly-played guitars continued long into the night, the party seemingly no nearer to ending, even if Sven had slipped away from it. He was drunk (that much was obvious) but unlike the last time he had got himself into such a state, his mood was chipper and jovial. He had every reason to feel the latter when his personal life was in tatters and his marriage ruined... but somehow, the alcohol, rather than force him to dwell on it, had lifted him into a better mood, possibly because he hadn't been drinking alone and therefore absorbed the celebratory mood of those in attendance.

He only exited the party temporarily in order to check in on Lorcan, the guilt at having not spent much time with him that day registering even in his drunken state. He was self-aware enough not to pick him up (he feared clumsily stumbling and dropping him) so slipped into the nursery and sat himself down in a plush armchair beside the crib, happy to sit in the dimly lit room and simply absorb his son's peaceful slumber for a few minutes.
 
Carina had passed the revelries twice. Both times she had paused and lingered by the slightly ajar door to peer within. The second time, on the walk back from having dinner alone in a smaller lounge (she couldn't bare to have it at the usual table), she remained at the door for a longer period of time. Her gaze took in the drunken antics of the guards and whoever else Sven had invited to the celebrations, brow creasing at the sight of some with women on laps and the wandering hands. Her heart thudded painfully within her chest and she tried to keep her wandering eyes casual, despite it only being herself she was fooling as she attempted to find Sven within the melee.

She knew she had no right now, not after her betrayal and him saying their marriage was just the name alone, but she still loved him, and feared seeing him attempting to both drown his troubles with alcohol and other women.

It was a sudden realisation that she didn't want to know if the latter was helping him through what he was experience that caused her to pull herself abruptly away from the door, not daring to wait and see if her fears would be confirmed. She would rather be ignorant, oblivious and blind to whatever Sven occupied himself with outside of work from now on until some harsh revelation smacked her in the face.

So Carina kept herself to her room or the nursery for the rest of the evening. She kept herself busy by withdrawing the ice from the walls and ceiling, despite such an act exhausting her somewhat. The armchair was no longer hard with the element, but the bed remained still in a half-frozen state. By the time she had come to it, she had drained herself too much and had no energy left to deal with it. Not that she minded necessarily, the chaise was comfortable enough.

Then there were Lorcan's feeds. She would see him two or three times more before putting him to bed with an Eirian and then an Ignisian lullaby. She didn't ask the nanny if Sven had been to see his son during the day.

However, as the night continued and she could hear the revelries spilling out onto the steps that were once filled with gifts and flowers and well wishes for Sven's recovery, Carina found herself incapable of sleeping. She tossed and turned and stared up at the ceiling, begging and willing for sleep to take her. When it did not, the young Queen exhaled heavily and pushed herself from the chaise. She took a thinner blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving her bedroom to head down to the kitchens for some warm milk.

Incapable as she was at being able to light the stove in order to make such a drink, Carina settled for a goblet of cold milk instead and began to head back upstairs, once more passing the celebrations. Instead of returning to her room, she moved for Lorcan's nursery, hoping that maybe taking a set in the rocking chair with her son on her chest may be able to soothe her enough to send her off to sleep.

With glass of cold milk in hand, she quietly pushed the door open, eyes on the beverage to ensure none was spilled with her movements. As they lifted, confident no liquid would be lost, she stopped with the door handle still in hand at the sight of Sven. Immediately she dropped her gaze, uncertain as to what to do. Swallowing back the nausea that swirled in her stomach, Carina took a few steps back and began to close the door again. She didn't know what sort of mood he would be in or how much he had drank that evening. But, more importantly, she didn't want to disturb his time with his son.
 
There wasn't much motivation for Sven to do anything other than sit beside his son's crib and watch him sleep. In acknowledgement of all he time he had neglected to give him that day (and for much of the week, unable to really devote himself to his son when he was suffering immensely with both his recovery and maintaining his emotional well-being), he didn't mind cutting his revelry short, or simply postponing his enjoyment there for a little while, if it meant spending some time with his child.

Lorcan might be asleep and unaware of his father's presence, but Sven didn't dare disturb him, finding enough contentment in simply watching the baby peacefully slumber away.

His drunkenness might have allowed Carina to creak open the door and retreat again without notice if it wasn't for the peacefulness in the room; the near-silence causing him to peer around abruptly for the source of the sudden disruption to it. He didn't necessarily want to be disturbed by anyone when he was enjoying the moment of a father lovingly observing their son... but he particularly despised the idea of Carina interrupting the scene. She was one of the only other people who had a right to enter the room unannounced, but he refused to accept that fact; not when his feelings for her were currently complicated and, in his drunk, inebriated state, heightened dramatically.

"I know you're there, you might as well own up to it and open the door. I know you're prone to being deceptive and sneaky, but let's not continue that behaviour. I'm not in the fucking mood, Carina," he muttered harshly as he slumped back into the rocking chair - possibly the worst choice of seating options when he already felt sick with the amount of alcohol he had consumed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, both to calm the sudden nausea that hit him and to calm himself, with the last place he wanted to lose his temper at being his son's nursery, when the newborn was sleeping just in front of him.

"...It's a shame you didn't attend the execution. It went without a hitch, it was perfect. You might have found some closure if you make an appearance. I certainly did," he continued beneath his breath as he finally, after summoning as much inner strength as he could, peered across to the partially opened door to lock eyes with her through the dim light of the room. Just the sight of her caused both anger and longing to stir, though the former was far more pronounced in his tipsy state.

"I don't think it's-- really appropriate to see Lorcan when I'm around, and vice versa. If we can help it, I'd rather avoid having my time with my son ruined by your presence. There are times we can't avoid it-- we'll have to play happy families at some moments, regrettably. But other times-- if I'm with my son, you stay away. I'll do the same for you."
 
Carina's eyes fluttered shut at his words, stomach twisting as she realised she had been caught. She had hoped to retreat hastily and quietly, to avoid detection, but it seems as though her husband (if only in name) still had his wits about him despite how much alcohol that may be careening through his veins in that moment. Though she supposed after all he had been through, it would undoubtedly be second nature to him to be more aware than ever of what was happening around him. Because of her.

His words flared a brief moment of anger within her, before the lack of energy to keep the flames fanned caused it to simmer and eventually die away again. Instead, she allowed herself to feel the cut of his words and reluctantly bowed her head, stepping back into the room as he requested.

She lingered near the door, eyes lowered to the cup of milk in her hand. She didn't want to take up too much of a presence in the nursery, already made aware of how much her presence irked him. Her breathing had, in her subconscious effort to try and make herself smaller, even shallowed and shortened, an attempt to not make too much noise or create too much movement. While she supposed that would make him see it as more of a sneaking tactic, she wasn't sure what else she could do.

His words about the execution had her tensing, both hands now showing a firm grip on the cup and she raised her eyes to find him already staring back at her.

"I didn't need reminding of what almost happened to me." She answered in an equally hushed voice, tone monotone and void of any emotion.

It was partially true. While she didn't want to see the end of Lauren's life, a woman she had once trusted and loved as a friend... Carina wasn't certain how she would have responded if she saw the hanging noose after so many nightmares of it being around her throat.

Steel blue eyes dropped from his, focusing once more on the drink she had fetched for herself. Eventually, she nodded, shoulders hunching inwards. "I... suspected as much, it... goes without saying. You've made your feelings known. But-- but I was leaving, Sven. You're the one that called me in here." She pointed out, but without the strength in which she used to call him out. Her voice was small, hesitant, uncertain as to if she even ought to say anything, "Just-- we'll leave the door open... just a crack. So we each know when the other is inside." Carina hurriedly suggested, not daring to linger on a comment that could evoke even more quiet anger from him.

"I didn't know you'd be here-- I thought you saw him earlier, before the... the revelries. I thought you would still be down there. If I'd known... I wouldn't have disturbed you."

The explanation came and Carina knew she didn't really need to bother, however she felt compelled to. Clearing her throat, she reached for the door again, pulling it open, "Goodnight, Sven."
 
"See, that's another thing. You expect me to believe you wouldn't come in and disrupt my time with my son? I don't believe anything you say to me - I fully anticipate you poisoning my son against me one day, or depriving me of time with him whenever you can because-- in your eyes, he's your son, isn't he? Yours and yours alone. You-- You fucking go on about how a child needs its mother but that's-- fucking-- he needs his father too, I won't have you breaking the bond I have with him because you're selfish a-and-- and a liar," he spat suddenly, the venom within his tone rising spectacularly as the bubbling anger beneath his surface exploded into life. His voice remained quiet enough as to not disturb Lorcan, but it contained enough dripping poison within it to make up for the lack of pitch - he didn't need to scream nor shout to get his point across.

Admittedly, the blurted responses and vehement snaps were a product of his drunkenness; every thought he had, borne from paranoia, now expelled from his lips in hurried, slurred fashion. He didn't necessarily want them to, and if he was sober, he would have kept such remarks to himself in knowing that it was just easier to prevent causing further animosity with Carina. That would only continue to make the atmosphere between them worse, and that wasn't the sort of energy he wanted Lorcan to be around nor pick up on.

But alcohol loosened the lips and when he felt his anger rising considerably the more Carina remained in his presence (even though he had been the one to call her back, a fact he was drunkenly forgetful of), there was little to no chance of his fears remaining to himself.

"You've broken what we had, you know that? You were the one person I thought-- understood me, the person I thought would be at my side, helping me-- be me without fear. But that was bullshit - you lied a-and you deceived and you manipulated and-- a-and I fucking hate you for it," he continued as he fiercely wiped his eyes: no tears had fallen but he felt them fitting his eyes nonetheless, and wanted to prevent crying in front of her. The moment a tear fell was the moment he knew he would be unable to stop the flood, so preventing that complete and utter breakdown in front of her was of paramount importance.

He rose from the rocking chair to head out from the room (mostly to avoid the possibility of those tears being released) though paused just as he was about to pass by her. The proximity both enraged and comforted him, the ambivalence causing him to frown in annoyance. It would be easier if he felt just one way towards her, but his feelings, like life, weren't that black-and-white.

"...I don't want to touch you, l-let alone have another child with you. That's-- no longer a requirement I ask of you. If I want another child, I'll find another way of achieving that; illegitimacy doesn't bother me. I'll seek out other avenues for pleasure too - I recommend you do the same because you won't get it from me. You disgust me, I-- I w-want nothing to do with you if I can help it. Go and-- a-and sleep with whomever your heart desires, I can't profess to give a shit."
 
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Carina sank back into edge of the door as he approached her, the door handle in her hand starting to freeze over in her fear. She had no idea of knowing he was just moving past her to leave, only that he was making a conscious effort to move toward her and to her, it was a gesture of intimidation. The wooden edge of the door bit into the soft of her back, and no longer did Carina feel a comfort in his presence that she once did. Instead, she felt the fear he undoubtedly wanted from her over a year ago.

Then, his last remarks. Confessing he'd go to others to father more children, how she disgusted him, that he never wanted to touch her again. It broke her indefinitely. It made her question why she ought to remain. Her budding friendship with Natalia would have to be cut off immediately as she knew Sven's paranoia would be incapable of handling it. And Lorcan... she thought she would be able to withstand anything that Sven threw her way in the form of looks and words. But this moment, filled with such passionate venom, had her doubting the remaining strength she had.

He had hit a nerve, and it showed, the pain raw and pure in form as she stared up at him. She stayed that way for a moment, truly unable to move after the blows he had just dealt her. Her love for him becoming lost under all the layers of hurt and anxiety and fear and heartbreak until she could no longer see it.

Her hand slowly released the door handle, her knuckles aching from how tightly her fingers had been clinging on. The ice had been withdrawn, soaked back up into her being. She didn't need to give him another reason to be cruel, he had plenty of ammunition as it was.

She wanted to fight back against him; correct him and argue that she never manipulated or lied about her feelings towards him. She didn't plan the eventual attempt on his life with Lauren and Thorin. That she loved him more than anything in the world, that he was everything to her. Her feelings were never a farce, like he clearly so believed. Lauren even testified on that to him that very same morning. Not to mention, that he had no right to be angry at her claiming Lorcan as hers after that had been something he had done every time the spoke of the baby during the first few months of the pregnancy. That the child was his, and only his. She had been the one referring to their eventual son as theirs.

Yet... she couldn't. Instead, she allowed the blows in the form of words to rain down on her. Carina knew he wouldn't listen to what she had to say, so what was the point of wasting her breath. About anything. She knew he was drunk, but as her mother used to say: a drunk man's words were a sober man's thoughts. And to think he had been keeping all of this buried within until now...

"Go fuck yourself."

The retort was breathy, her voice trembling and thick with tears that she was grateful did not water her vision just yet. Those would be her only words to him, as she hastily retreated from the nursery before those tears could manifest in his presence, shutting the door behind her on his face and running back to her room to lock the door behind her and sink down against it, attempting to catch her hyperventilating breath.
 
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The trembling retort didn't necessarily surprise him when he (even in the state he was in) fully anticipated her to defend herself against the flurry of insults slung ruthlessly at her, but the emotion behind it did catch him off guard. He didn't believe she had anything to do with the plot to assassinate him (she would be buried in an undiscoverable ditch if he did) but he certainly didn't trust her. How could he when she had admitted to plotting his demise and then proceeded to lie when he had asked for truth later on? He couldn't be sure just what was true about her and what was fake - hence the inability to believe wholeheartedly that she loved him.

He didn't want to doubt that, not when he knew he still held that love for her in spite of all his insults, but he couldn't entirely believe it when he had her cast as a manipulator who would say and do whatever she could to keep her throne at his side. She had never struck him as someone desperate for power and glory, but it was, ultimately, the only label he could pin her with; the only justification for the lies and constant deception.

He could take her reasoning behind her lies as the truth... but then he had to accept the fact she had chosen to remain loyal to Lauren rather than tell him, her husband, the truth, and that didn't make him feel all that great either.

All he knew was that she had the propensity to lie and manipulate him - trusting her again wasn't an easy feat, and one he didn't see happening anytime soon. It was why her emotional display, one that would ordinarily tug at his heartstrings, only enraged him.

He couldn't believe any of it when she was as good a manipulator as he had been in his past. If she was seeking sympathy (as he assumed she was), then he refused to give it to her. In fact, he refused point blank to let her storm off and get away with speaking to him as though they were in any way on the same level anymore. Their marriage might appear to be one of equals in public, but behind closed doors? He expected to be treated with the respect he, as the rightful ruler of Ignis, deserved. He was born to rule over the land and that deserved far more respect than someone marrying into it.

The alcohol fuelled the proceeding moments (as it fuelled the beliefs of superiority) as he abandoned the nursery. His motivation for heading after her and what he sought from a further bitter exchange was unknown even to him, but rage coursed through his veins and it needed an outlet; he needed to expel his anger and stamp down his authority.

"Open this goddamn door, Carina, before I burn it down," he hissed as he tried the handle furiously, shoving his weight against the door in an attempt to break his way in. It didn't work and only left his shoulder aching but he proceeded as long as he could before he grew tired of the lack of progress. Instead, he rested a hand against the handle and watched with subtle satisfaction as the metal burned at his touch, the wood beyond it starting to simmer and splinter until a hole formed within it; a hole large enough for his hand to reach in and turn the lock on the other side himself.

"Is that what's going to happen now? This level of disrespect; is that going to be commonplace? You have some fucking nerve, you know," he sneered as he, if only for dramatic effect, kicked the door open and trailed into the bedroom, doing his best not to stumble as his vision somewhat hazily blurred. "You don't-- get to speak to me like that; you don't-- y-you don't have the right to after all you've f-fucking done."
 
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Not expecting him to hunt her down, Carina put her cup of milk down on the floor beside her and brought her knees to her chest. Her hands formed fists and pressed against her eyes, which finally released the tears she had been struggling to hold back on her race back to her room. Even if there was no one in the corridor leading to her room, she didn't dare lose her composure there. Just in case. The sobs were thick, heavy, loud. Grief for what she lost and anguish for who she had hurt and hatred towards herself poured out of her.

His words replayed themselves cruelly over and over again in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried, they wouldn't leave her alone. Her fists moved from her eyes to press against her temples, a sharp pain coming from her chest at her ragged and uneven breathing. She wanted to scream, and with that desire came the urge to just let go of her power. The ice that seethed in her veins longed for freedom and Carina wanted to expel it if only to be rid of the weighted feeling of controlling it.

However, her haze of anguish was interrupted at Sven's voice at the door, demanding to be let in with the rattle of the handle. The young woman fell silent, as if hoping that would send him away. One hand pressing to her mouth to stifle the gasping breaths she took after her fit of crying, while the other wrapped around her lower legs, pulling them painfully closer to her.

The first thud against the door had her skittering away, knocking over the cup of milk in her desperation to get away from the door. Carina scrambled over to the foot of her bed, sitting behind it as she watched, flinching at every pulse the door made as it took the strength that Sven threw behind it.

Before, Carina knew he would never willingly bring her harm. The man she loved wouldn't have dreamed of lifting a finger against her and she could feel content and safe within his arms. Now...

She genuinely feared what would happen to her.

She had seen him in a rage before, but nothing akin to what she was experiencing on this night.

As the wood of the door near the handle began to shimmer and glow red hot, Carina swallowed hard and ducked her head behind the bed. Her whole body shook uncontrollably as she pressed herself backwards and eventually under the bed, still half-frozen with her ice. Her heart thudded furiously in her chest as she hid, as close to the wall the bed was against. In any other situation, she would have faced him. However the dread that was now felt in his presence overwhelmed her. The knowledge that he was intoxicated making matters worse.

In that moment, Carina was transported back to Eira, reminded of when she and Emmett would hole up in the furthest reaches of her room after their parents had argued and her father's scent became that of whiskey. They would hide together and watch as the door handled jumped up and down, her father demanding entry. But unlike Sven, he would eventually grow bored and move on, leaving the Eirian siblings to breath out a hefty sigh of relief.

On this occasion, she had no such luck and no company. So she was left to watch his shoes move into, and through the bedroom, tears now streaming silently down her cheeks.
 
"Are you actually hiding like a child? Or is coward the more appropriate term? Either way, it's pathetic," the man proceeded to sneer as he made his way to the wardrobe to peer inside in search of her hiding place.

With each heavy thudded footstep came a mutter beneath his breath, either another inevitable insult (he was hurting, so he wanted her to hurt too) or a grumble in annoyance that he had to search for her. He was seemingly demanding respect and the fact she was refusing to face him wasn't taken for the truth (that she was fearful for her safety) but rather another deliberate act of defiance against him; yet another show of disobedience that he wanted to eradicate.

He was the ruler and he didn't think it was entirely wrong to expect the respect such a position demanded, especially from a woman who was (in his eyes) lucky to still be able to play the loving wife in public and reap the benefits from the kingdom and its people in return.

Though the room was large, there were only so many nooks to hide in. When the wardrobe failed to enlighten him to her location, with similar angry mutters exploding from him when the bathroom also came up empty, he inevitably got to his knees to peer beneath the bed. When she feared for her life, the fact one of his hands was enflamed, flames engulfing it and burning intensely, was inevitably going to stir panic... but it hadn't been his intention; it was merely used to bring some light into the dark room and aid his search for her.

In fact, he genuinely didn't believe her to consumed by fear. Rather, he thought this was her stubborn disobedient refusal to give him what he wanted in the form of a little respect; an idea implanted into him after hours of drinking with the soldiers who complimented his new approach to ruling but reminded him not to loosen his grip on his authority. It was unfortunate timing that shortly after such conversations, Carina had opted to run and hide from him: it only indicated to Tate's drunken mind that she was disobedient and that his authoritative hold was, indeed, starting to loosen.

But the desire he had to stamp out her defiance all but disappeared the moment he locked eyes with her. It wasn't the expression of fear on her face that first caused him to stumble back, nor was it the initial reason for the shock that crossed his features. Rather, it was the immediate transportation back to his youth, when he had hidden from his own father as the man came searching drunkenly for him to stamp down his authority on a son he was ultimately dissatisfied and disappointed by.

He knew from the moment shared in the library months back just how many similarities he held with Carina regarding their parents... so he thereby also knew that as he shocked and disgusted himself with the similarity he bore to his own father, that Carina, huddled underneath the bed, probably felt like a child once more, shielding herself in fear. The sight of that terror finally registered and he, in the immediate, instinctive desire to comfort her from it, reached out to try and ease her troubles.

Instead, the simmering flames surrounding his hand remained fixed in place despite him naively believing he had quashed them in time. What followed was that flame-engulfed hand reaching forward to comfort her, only for sparks to fire off when his fingers separated out from the first, a blob of that fire landing on Carina's leg.

For a moment, Sven didn't believe he had hurt her - or rather, he refused to accept that reality when it was something of a nightmare. Though there was only so much denying he could do before any attempt at that delusion broke down, his eyes wide in horror at the sight -and smell- of the burning flesh

"I-- I'm-- oh god, I'm sorry, I-- I just-- I didn't mean to-- to h-hurt you," he began in mild panic as he pushed himself further from the bed, finding himself pressed up against the wardrobe opposite it. He would have been the one retreating this time if he had the strength to pull himself to his feet - but he didn't. All strength had abandoned him as he stared pathetically at his hands, both still aflame in his current, drunken inability to properly control the power... as the simmering flames on the carpet from his hurried push back from the bed proved.

"I'm not-- m-my father, I wouldn't... hurt you, I wouldn't-- I mean, I-- I wouldn't do th-that on purpose, I wouldn't, I wouldn't d-do that-- I w-wouldn't," came the repeated, frantic murmurs beneath his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily as panic all but consumed him. Eventually, he rose or rather staggered) to his feet, eyes wide and wild as he ran his hands through his hair, the strands fortunately exempt from the damage of the flames. "I-I'll get help, you're burnt, I-- I'll g-get help."
 
If she didn't love him, Carina would have defended herself with her ice. Her hand, albeit trembling, would have raised to point in his general direction and she would have sent a sheet of ice to try and extinguish the fire around his hand. If she didn't love him, she would have faced him head on knowing she could claim self-defence if she did cause him any harm. While no one may have believed her, the lock on the door had been melted down and held signs of forced entry; the scorch mark on the carpet near her bed would have shown his flames were in use before her ice had to make an appearance.

Instead... Carina waited for the moment he found her to come, feet failing to gain traction on the carpet as she attempt to push herself even further against the wall, watching with horror as he got to his knees to peer under the bed.

Her eyes were wide and wild, the irises seeming to darken under the light of his flame like thick ice when it finally melts into a pool, and her feet continued with their struggle to push her further away from him. In her clouded mind, Carina barely even acknowledged the insults he hurled her way, too fixated on what would happen to her if he found her.

He had every right to be angry, she was not naïve or foolish enough to believe that she was not the villain in their story after all that had happened, but that didn't mean she was exempt from fear. This was a man she once adored, the person she eventually felt the safest she had ever felt with. She had loved him, divulged parts of her past and parts of her that no one had ever witnessed or heard of before. She had trusted him as much as he trusted her, and while he had not broken her trust like she had his... she was starting to lose faith in the person he had become when they were together.

Unable to read his reaching out as a gesture belonging to a want to comfort her, Carina attempted to draw her knees as tight to her chest as possible. Her lips parted, the lower lip wobbling and unintelligible noises (probably pleading, begging words) sounded from her.

When the fire scorched her lower leg, Carina screamed. And finally, her ice was expelled.

The explosive power caused the bed to flip to the side and fall until it was face down, the mattress not even leaving the frame due to how well frozen it was to the wood. Ice shards splintered the bedside table to her left and the walls crackled with a sheen of ice. Cold, white air was expelled from the gap where the door was, looking as if the room had released a gasp of warm air into a wintery night. Ice touched everything, except Sven, and the area where he stood.

The scent of singed flesh made nausea roll in her stomach and, as she sobbed, Carina pushed herself upright to sit against the wall. Her eyes landed on the blistered skin of her lower left leg, and her pitiful noises worsened.

"Get out!" Carina choked on the words as she leaned forward, shaking hands reaching out towards the aggressive wound. The nausea worsened, but she knew she had to cool the burn immediately. It was difficult, however, and all she could do was look at what he had caused. In her shock, it felt even worse than it may have been, but the sight of blisters forming, the red and blackened skin... Carina felt faint.

"J-Just get-- just get out! L-Leave! I don't-- I don't n-need your help. I don't need... I don't need anything from any of you!" Her voice rose, unable to look at him, "D-don't dare p-pretend! D-don't act l-like this wasn't... like this wasn't... Just-- Just get out."
 
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Even though the expulsion of ice (fortunately) failed to harm him, Sven could mistakenly be thought to be literally frozen in his place. He registered Carina's frantic yells for him to leave -the fact that was all she did when she had every right to see what he had done as a deliberate attack and viciously retaliate was nothing short of miraculous- but he couldn't follow through on them immediately; not when her screams continued to echo in his head and her earlier moments of desperate pleading continued to render him silent.

It was nothing less than torture for him to have to continually replay the event through his mind and force himself to acknowledge the fact that for all his desperation to distance himself from his father... this was once instance where he had never been more like the man. It was uncanny just how similar this situation was to those from his youth where he had cowered fearfully from a drunken King searching for him without caring to disguise just how terrifying he was.

Only... he couldn't help but feel this was worse. He had burned Carina. However accidental it had been, it would never had occurred had he not stormed after her, had he not broken his way into the room and proceeded to terrify her with his drunken desire to force some respect out of her (an admittedly idiotic idea that had only entered his brain thanks to some drunken discussions with his soldiers).

None of this would had happened if he hadn't initiated the argument in the first place and regardless how much he apologised, no matter how desperately he sought forgiveness... he knew the moment the fire had scorched her skin that any existing connection that remained between them, however frayed, had broken completely.

He felt sick the longer he was forced to take in the smell of the singed skin, if only in the realisation of whose skin it was and who was responsible for causing the accident in the first place... though he knew deep in his bones that the nausea would persist for hours whenever he was forced to accept what had happened.

There was no getting away from it and frankly, after what he had done, he didn't deserve that respite.

"I-I'm-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed to blurt, voice tight as tears threatened to finally break. A few finally escaped his eyes as he lost any remaining strength he had to hold them back, allowing that bough to break which was the motivation for leaving - he doubted Carina would care that he felt as though he was breaking apart when he had held no such sympathy for what he had put her through (prior to the accident which snapped him back into reality).

Without hesitation, he swiftly turned to head to his bedroom, the door locking loudly behind him with the man having no intention of leaving the room anytime soon. How could he when all that would face him beyond it was the realisation that he had terrified and injured his own wife; that he had acted like the bully his own father had been?

Locking himself in his room might not be the best way of handling matters when he would inevitably proceed to torture himself with the memories of what he had done... but it felt like a decent enough punishment for his crime.
 
Her screams had inevitably attracted some attention, and it wasn't long until Carina had a random servant and the butler from that morning, by her side. A stinging sensation continued to fry her nerves, making the entire leg that held the injury feel warm. Even after trying to treat the burn herself, she knew she would need more. But by this point, she wanted nothing from any Ignisian. She feared their intentions even after she had been cleared of all charges, knowing them to be loyal to their king and having only beginning to warm up to her. Her paranoia drove her to protest and pull her arms back down to her side as she was helped to her feet, the butler having raced to wake the physician.

However, in the end, the only reason she went with them was the promise of a new, clean room. Not that she wanted to be away from her ice, but a new room meant a new lock and a strong door. While the fear of Sven simply melting the handle remained fresh, Carina was aware of the extra measures she could put in place herself.

His apologies rang hollow and false in her mind, with the young woman believing that he was merely manipulating her once again. She refused to believe that the apologies and tears that he showed were anything other than lies after the cruelty and initiation of argument he had just displayed.

She had opened up to him about the nature of her father, and the memory she had found herself thinking back to while huddled under the bed, so to have him re-enact such a horrifying, heart-stopping moment where she genuinely feared for her life... Carina found it hard to even think about forgiving him.

Ever since the moment they had been attacked in their bed, Carina had lost much sleep over the anxiety that Sven would wish to take matters into his own hands. Especially after confessing that burning was an option for her death. To her, his hunting her down to her room and burning her was just a confirmation of what she was so terrified of: that he truly wished to kill her himself. Perhaps he didn't finish what he started that night was because he didn't wish to disturb the revelries, or because he - having now in her mind returned to the Sven that killed her brother - wanted to leave her dreading every set of footsteps that walked past her room.

Once helped to lay down on the bed in her new sleeping quarters, she found herself being gently held down by the maid as the physician (with help from the butler) tended to the burn on her lower leg. The maid didn't have to put much energy into keeping the queen down because, quite frankly, the queen herself found herself exhausted the moment her head hit the pillows. The only times the maid's body strained to fight against Carina's movements was when the physician disinfected the wound and applied a salve which stung bitterly at first before numbing and cooling the area. The burn was wrapped up, before her foot was propped up on a series of pillows.

Tears continue to leak from her eyes, running rapidly down the sides of her head and dampening the pillow either side. She contemplated her choices, not just the ones to do with her relationship with Sven and the ruin she had brought upon them both, but also whether or not she should have stayed.

Her head turned as the physician packed up his bag, the maid sat in an armchair nearby and the butler at the door. "S-sleep," she began, voice quiet, "Can you give me something? P-please."

The physician hesitated, taking in the Queen's appearance before approaching her, placing his bag on the bedside table, "You shan't be able to feed your son come morning, Your Majesty, should you take something." He explained, unclipping the hook on his bag to pull it open once more.

"H-he has bottles. The n-nanny keeps some safe in the kitchen. He can have those until it's out of my system." Carina answered, "Please... I-- I'm so tired." Further tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her statement sincere.

Taking pity on her, the physician pulled out a small jar with no more than ten pills inside, "They are potent, Your Majesty, so only take one before bed in the evening."

Nodding, Carina's eyes followed the jar as he placed it besides his bag on the table, "I shall be back tomorrow, to check on your injury. Good evening, Your Majesty." He continued before backing out of the room, the butler shutting the door behind them both, leaving Carina and her maid alone.

After having the young girl fetch a glass of water, Carina swallowed one of the sickly-green pills from the jar, tucking it away not long after in the drawer of the table. Her head then fell back against the pillow, and closed her eyes, not putting up a fight when the effects of the sleeping pill came for her.
 
By the time the morning arose, word of the Queen's injury had spread from one maid to another until much of the staff serving beneath Sven were aware of his antics. Discussion had revolved around whether he had meant it or not; whether he was deliberately trying to hurt her, possibly out of refusal to believe she was as innocent as Lauren had claimed she was, or whether it had simply all been an accident, aided by the notorious clumsiness that accompanied any of his drunken states.

There were arguments to be had on both sides, both seeming as likely as the other, and so, in hushed whispers, many of the staff engaged in such discussions as the morning broke around them. They could be loyal to their Kind and still discuss the odd behaviour he had displayed that week, from wandering about looking like death itself during the days leading up to Lauren's eventual capture (he had consumed himself with the torturous belief that Carina had a role in a plot to kill him, after all) to engaging in a raucous party he wasn't entirely known for enjoying, ending in him burning his way into the Queen's bedroom and dealing her a particularly nasty burn.

It was behaviour that wasn't like him, so gossip inevitably erupted amongst his servants about what else they ought to expect; whether the king that was supposed to lead and rule was up to the task - his present behaviour with him locking himself away, refusing all the calls and knocks at his door, seemed to suggest otherwise.

Even though she hadn't quite risen to her former glory, Natalia also wasn't a servant. Her job title wasn't entirely crystal clear to her, but when Sven refused to answer her (and with no idea what else she ought to do with her time now the office was neatly organised), she had little option other than to lend a hand in cleaning: a task she thought a little beneath her but her ego didn't get in the way of her offering that help. She didn't need to, nobody had demanded she do so and there was nobody observing she was trying to impress, but she was at a loss with herself if she stood idly by with time on her hands.

Besides, when she had no idea what was going on (she saw the burnt door and Sven's refusal to unlock his own was a sign that something dreadful had occurred), the best way of enlightening herself without demanding the truth from servants who had never quite liked her was to, effectively, eavesdrop on their conversations amongst one another. It was how she learnt of the night's events - she continued to clean down the fireplace in spite of the sickening feeling swirling in her gut in the knowledge that Sven had injured Carina in such a way. She assumed it had been an accident, but that didn't invalidate the fear she knew the Queen ought to be feeling.

It was that presumption of fear that left Natalia making the deliberate choice not to disrupt the woman's privacy. After all she had gone through, she needed her space to recuperate; create herself a bubble of security that ought to remain unpunctured for as long as possible. It was impossible to leave her be for the entire day, but Natalia went as long as she could before making her way up to the Queen's new bedroom - with Sven stubbornly refusing to answer to her genuinely worried calls, even when they concerned incoming letters he had to give his attention, Carina was the next port of call.

She didn't enjoy having to step into the room and disturbing her rest, but she wouldn't have done so if there weren't pressing matters that needed one of the ruling royals' attention. With Sven's door locked (and Carina's only left open for the time being so the physician could check up on her), she was Natalia's only option.

"...Carina? It's-- Natalia, are you awake? I don't wish to disturb you, so feel free to tell me to leave if you're not in the mood for company," she began as she hesitated at the foot of the bed, biting her lip to ensure she thought her words through before letting them leave her mouth. "...I need to inform you of something-- are you okay to hear me out? I'm not... entirely sure I can keep this to myself, it's of too much importance and I-- currently only have access to you."
 
The sleeping pill had done it's job wonderfully. It had taken Carina so far deep into a slumber that not even her nightmares could disturb her. There were no frightful visions of nooses or the exaggerated flicker of flame. Only darkness.

Carina had begun to stir before Natalia's arrival, but kept her eyes shut, not wanting to have to open them and face the reality of all that had happened. She didn't want to have to replay the events of the night before and accept the fact that her husband, the man she once loved - and still did, deep in her heart - had actually harmed her. As she lay there, refusing to welcome in the new day, she became aware and focused on the heartbeat that pulsed under the bandage on her leg. It made her wonder if she ought to have asked for some pain medication to, and then at least she could be completely numb to it all when she was awake too.

However, as much as she wanted to drug herself up and avoid the rest of her life, Carina knew a newer, smaller life depended on her. It was the only reason why she reluctantly blinked her eyes open, exhaling and raising a hand to her eyes to rub the sleep from them. With the light now welcoming her into the day, Carina was made aware of the slight side-effects of the sleeping pill.

Her head felt clouded and her tongue thick in her mouth which was dry. A maid, a new one this time, stood from where she had been sat in the chair to help Carina sit up by moving the pillows her foot rested on. After draining the last of the water from last night out of its glass, she handed the young girl it and requested a small breakfast with a sweet tea and orange juice.

With the girl gone, Carina sank back against the pillows, eyes closing quietly. After a moment, her eyes re-opened and she reached into the drawers to fetch out the tablets, rolling the jar between her fingers as she stared down at them. However, at the sound of returning footsteps, she sharply returned the medication to the drawer and shut her eyes once more. Her heart thudded furiously in her chest as she feigned sleep, knowing that it wouldn't have been the maid - she had only just left, after all.

The sound of Natalia's voice ended her act, though her body continued to hold tension. "Natalia... I..." Breathing out softly, she awkwardly shifted backwards to prop herself up against the headboard of the bed, padding it out with her pillows and readjusted her leg, "O-of course. What... what is it? Why do you not have access to Sven? Where is he? Hungover, I presume? A-actually, never... never mind. What's wrong? Tell me."
 
The sight of the bandaged leg (and knowing the precise injury that existed beneath it) caused Natalia to momentarily forget her train of thought, resulting in her appearing back up at the Queen in slight confusion. The purpose of her arrival had been of clear importance or she wouldn't have bothered Carina and her recovery when she needed that time to recuperate alone... but for a brief moment, all thoughts had evaded her as she considered the reality of Carina's injury and just how badly the connection between the married couple would have deteriorated.

It would have dropped even lower than it had already been - any hope of them possibly reconnecting and putting all the hurtfulness behind them now looked more unlikelier than ever.

Her eyes finally lit with recognition once she broke out from the momentary fog that had descended over her memory, shaking her head in mild irritation with herself. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb Carina, so the temporary lapse in her memory was ultimately several seconds longer in the room, disrupting Carina and her well-deserved rest. After all, even with the injury aside, she had been put through a week of hell and had only given birth a day or so before it had all kicked off.

She deserved to take as long as she needed in bed - it was of great reluctance that Natalia had to disturb her from that rest but she wouldn't be comfortable sitting on what she knew without informing her or Sven. Preferably both of them, but shouting out what needed to be told through the door to him, where any servant could overhear and begin gossiping about, wasn't an option.

"A letter arrived this morning from a village in the South. I was prepared to simply dispose of it, there's little point in holding onto letters that don't come from aristocrats or royals discussing important matters pertinent to the Kingdom, but-- out of sheer curiosity, to give myself something to do, I... I read it. Carina, it's from a young man claiming to-- to be the late King's son. Illegitimate son, but son nonetheless," she whispered, the words falling quickly and hurriedly from her lips as though she wasn't comfortable holding them within herself - which she wasn't, far from it.

Because while it could simply be the ramblings of a fool seeking his moment of fame or notoriety, there was also a particularly high chance of the so called admissions being true. The former King hadn't cared to hide the affairs he had, often boasting of his sexual exploits to all that could here - having mistresses was a right he believed he held as a King chosen by God himself. And when Natalia knew for a fact that Sven's father had taken trips down south to hunt the elk that roamed there, the story checked out.

As much as she wished it didn't.

"I've tried to talk to Sven, but he's all but barricaded himself in his room and I didn't think it appropriate to start shouting of a possible half-brother out in the corridor, so I-- thought I'd talk to you because the man says in his letter that he's-- hoping to arrive here tomorrow morning, to meet Sven and you and... I understand you might prefer to rest than deal with this but you're... the Queen; I need to know what I should do. This could be a deluded madman intent on harming you both, or he could be.. telling the truth. It's a possibility; the old King's romancing is fact, isn't it?"
 
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Carina remained silently as the adviser hurriedly informed her of recent letter and the situation that came with it. She kept her expression passive and emotionless, after last night, not willing to show any more emotion. She retreated to her Eirian teachings: emotions made one weak. Any sign of them would be used against you.

Her eyes wandered to the window in the room, arms slowly folding to lay loosely across her chest, fingers lightly drumming against her upper arm. If there was anything Carina didn't want at that precise moment, was more drama, and also a reason why she had to go to Sven. It riled her that he was refusing to heed the urgent requests from Natalia, even after all that had happened last night. He had made it quite clear he despised her now, so she didn't believe for a second that he was licking his wounds about hurting her. In Carina's mind, he was either hungover or sulking. Either way, he was now neglecting his duties.

Duties that she knew she couldn't undertake, lest she evoked his wrath once again.

Her body was tired, her nerves frayed from what had occurred over the last eight days (if one included the long, strenuous birth of Lorcan), and all Carina wanted to do was rest. But she knew that wasn't possible, not with life handing them one thing after another.

"You're right... this could be a ploy to work his way into the castle when the King is still recovering from his injuries." Carina finally murmured, agreeing with the adviser, continuing to mull things over in her mind. "However, if this man is who he claims and truly is the late King's illegitimate son... we cannot afford to ignore it. We cannot risk refusing his request to see us, I do not fancy fighting a coup later down the line if he becomes ambitious."

She fell silent at the maid returned with her requested breakfast, waiting until the girl had curtseyed and retreated before moving the tray from her lap onto the bed beside her to continue speaking to Natalia.

The situation spoke painfully to Carina of what Lorcan could potentially be having to deal with when he was older. Illegitimate half-brothers whom Sven sired because he couldn't bring himself to touch her. A flicker of hurt briefly crossed her expression in remembrance of the words spat in her direction last night, but soon the cold façade was back in place.

"I would say we allow him to visit - he is checked for weapons when he first arrives and I want guards in the grand hall. With the... recent events involving the King... I would dare say this supposed illegitimate royal will understand. If Sven had not moved from his room by this evening... I will visit him myself. If he does not come out by the time this man arrives, I will face him alone. If Sven becomes angry at the choices I have made, I will swiftly remind him I continued his duties where he did not."

Carina took in a deep breath, taking a moment as she reached for her tea to sip tentatively at the hot liquid, "I have failed as a wife and mother, I will not fail as a Queen."
 
Carina's demeanour -professional, rigid, cold- wasn't lost on Natalia. For a moment, she believed it to be the result of Carina no longer having a need to display so many emotions in front of her, returning instead to the thinly veiled dislike that had been present in place before the prior week when the two women had promised to remain civil but no such promises about feigning a like for one another.

After the horrid week the Queen had endured, during which Natalia had been present for much of it, offering reassurances and doing all she could to ensure the other had her time with her son, the former adviser liked to believe that they had made great strides forward in their relationship with one another; that the experience they had endured had allowed them to leave behind much of the bitterness and start anew. This coldness seemed to almost contradict that desire, one that Natalia believed to have been shared--

But she discounted that particular theory immediately when it did the other a disservice. How could she expect Carina to display any emotional side when that ran the risk of reliving the awful events she had endured throughout the week; a week that culminated in her own husband hurting her, accidentally or otherwise?

Natalia couldn't blame her for reverting to this state.

Frankly, she understood it more than anyone else could.

"He's indicated that he's on his way here so a letter sent back to him informing him of the decision to allow him a visit, as per protocol, clearly has no relevance in this case but... I'll inform the guards that we're to expect a visit. I'll keep the details vague -nobody ought to know about this other than us for now- but I'll at least give this man-" she paused to scour the details of the letter in her hand in search of a name, continuing once she discovered it messily scrawled (the poor penmanship a hint at the different livelihoods the two half-brothers had lived; Sven's penmanship was perfect as a result of strict handwriting lessons) towards the end, "--ah, Andrew-- we'll at least give the name Andrew to the guards so they can allow him through."

She hesitated slightly before setting the letter down near the breakfast tray for the woman to peruse for herself, biting the inner part of her cheek in the hope it would stop her from airing her opinions (she didn't want to bring the stress of a disagreement onto Carina) but, inevitably, the urge to say what she had to say won out.

"Is it wise for you to... see this stranger after all you've been through? I would say the exact same to Sven; he's recovering from being stabbed. I wouldn't be entirely happy for him to see this man alone either. I may not be an adviser but it doesn't stop me from passing advice off as -and I say this with some great surprise- a friend. You do as you wish, you're the Queen who has a right to see this visitor, but... don't overdo yourself. I'll be sure to say the same to Sven as well."
 
"It's exactly that reason why I must see this man after all I have been through. If this is a prod at the crown to see if it currently holding any weakness after the events of last week, we cannot allow a drop of blood to be shown. I must show I am still as hard and sharp as the ice I can wield, and Sven must show he is still as fierce and strong as the flames he can conjure." Carina reached for the letter that had been placed on her breakfast tray, delicately holding it with her index and middle finger as her eyes scanned the messy scrawl.

Eventually her gaze raised back to Natalia, swapping the letter for her cup of tea again, "If Sven is... unable to attend, we will tell... Andrew that the King has been called into a meeting, that he may or may not join us. That way we are not promising anything and not informing him of the real reason why Sven cannot attend." She continued, finding herself actually glad to have something else occupying her mind. Not the persistent whispers of Sven's taunts the night before.

Carina took a moment to reflect on the situation that had now been brought to her attention, eyes looking to the letter once more from over the rim of her cup as a finger lightly tapped in a slow, lingering beat against it.

Exhaling softly, she finally lowered her cup and looked back to the adviser, pausing for a breath in silence as she considered her next words, "I hope you know, Natalia... that I valued your support and... and even your friendship during the last week," she began, the coldness melting slightly to allow a small smile to appear, "I would like this new step in our... understanding of each other to continue. I would like us to take last week forward and continue on this path of friendship. I just... I would like you for you to know that, so when more moments like these come along where I... am not as emotional as I was during that last week... then you know the truth. Although not many people seem to believe my word these days."

The last comment was undeniably bitter and Carina dropped her gaze to her hands, brow furrowing at the thought. However, she pushed past it and cleared her throat, reluctantly looking back up at the other woman, "Just understand that I've... come to the realisation that my... my father was right. Emotions will get you nowhere. Showing them, talking about them, it goes you nothing. Unfortunately it's taken this past week and the events that have accompanied it to finally agree with him." It felt more real, admitting such a thing out loud, a confirmation of the choice she had made for the rest of her life.

"Of course, in private, you and Lorcan can expect to not receive cold treatment, but in front of others... I can no longer bring myself to be weak or open myself up to others as I had done to him. I may have ruined things for him, but he as equally ruined things for me."
 
The admission that she fully intended on maintaining the colder front in public wasn't exactly music to Natalia's ears; not when she assumed Sven would only continue to display the sorts of characteristics that had existed before the change of heart and -more importantly- the changes in the kingdom. If the two were prepared to revert to past behaviours and regard one another with anger on Sven's part, and coldness on Carina's, then what position would that put Ignis in?

How were the civilians, who had taken to the newer philosophies and welcomed the openness and transparencies from their royals, respond to the sudden (and in their eyes, abrupt) switch back to the way they had been months ago? The kingdom might not be suddenly plunged back into the darkness of its past, where provoking war with neighbours was a constant threat... but that wouldn't stop the fear of such a scenario arriving to people if their royals, the ruling power of Ignis itself, suddenly shut down and shut them out in the process.

But Natalia couldn't say or do anything to change the other's mind when the certainty of her tone cut any further discussion on the matter. She had clearly come to a conclusion she was intent on sticking to for her own protection and well-being - and after all she had been through, Natalia couldn't neglect her that.

At the very least, she could be happy that she, at least in private, seemed to be an exception to that. It did continue to surprise her how just one week had changed the energy between them both, but she wasn't going to complain. She might not be the sort of woman who made friends and let people in that often, but she couldn't deny how... nice it was to have made a connection to Carina, particularly if it fully put to bed the animosity that had once reigned between them.

"If that's your decision, then I support it. Of course I will. I understand why you'd prefer to hold that coldness in public, it... seems like a good way of protecting yourself and presenting strength, so-- you don't need to explain further. I understand," she confirmed with a faint smile of her own, one that didn't last too long but had been present regardless. It wasn't easy to smile at the idea of her decision -and Sven's- when it felt like a great step backwards against all the progress they had made for Ignis; progress that had been long overdue and had instilled even feelings of optimism in Natalia, someone who would admit herself how difficult she was to impress.

Yet, if there was no changing her mind, it was just easier to agree and offer support, rather than offer up the fears and provoke hostility.

"I'll leave you to your breakfast - I'll get on with informing the guards and preparing the staff for tomorrow's visitor. I'll handle all of those little details; there's nothing you need to do other than rest up for now. I... also wouldn't recommend seeing Sven, or attempting to see him, but I suppose you'll decide what to do for yourself later on."
 
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